


take one, take two, take three more, and then talk

by undeliveredtruth



Series: svt requests & randoms [4]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Anal Sex, Drug Dealer Mingyu, Hate Sex, M/M, Minor Violence, Policeman Wonwoo, Rough Sex, Spit As Lube, a little bit of a pain kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 07:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19290628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeliveredtruth/pseuds/undeliveredtruth
Summary: Wonwoo hates the sound of Kim Mingyu's laugh.What's worse though is that with him, nothing's ever as it seems.





	take one, take two, take three more, and then talk

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon on CC who requested Minwon hate sex: you have unleashed the demon. This is also clearly inspired by that photo of Wonwoo in that police vest, because I've wanted to write that forever.
> 
> This reads a bit... well. But this is entirely consensual. I hope you enjoy it. <3

Kim Mingyu's laugh. It's what makes Wonwoo want to punch him every single time, makes him _lose it._ He'd want nothing more than to have a go at him, swing his fist, beat him up until he can't talk, can't throw that _fucking_ smirk in Wonwoo's direction again.

That laugh, that fucking cold, humorless cackle, the grin on his face. It drives Wonwoo _nuts._

Abso-fucking-lutely _nuts._

Wonwoo, who's always prided himself on his morals, on the capacity to stay calm and collected even in front of the most despicable people, the most abhorrent of crimes. There are reasons, strong reasons for which Wonwoo has been able to fight his way up the ladder, stronghold his reputation in the police. One of the most significant reasons being his temperament, his calm, collected attitude.

Wonwoo can walk into an interrogation room and have absolutely all eyes in the room quiver with barely a few words, no violence needed. The art of weakening people, of knowing exactly which strings to pick at, what subtle clues of their body or words he can use to absolutely wreck their defense is his forte.

But not Kim Mingyu. Not fucking Kim Mingyu.

Not Kim Mingyu, who is the only one at the site when Wonwoo and his team receive an anonymous call about a drug warehouse. Leaning on a wall in his patterned suit, smoking a cigarette, chuckling.

The warehouse is empty. Like all others before it.

Wonwoo clenches his fist behind the one-way mirror, watching Kim Mingyu's smirk, listening to his sarcastic laugh. Mocking everyone who's in the room with his empty remarks. Like he's teasing them with his pointless tips, waving them from side to side, strings attached to them, Mingyu the puppeteer.

"Leave. All of you, leave," Wonwoo barks, startling the men around him. "Turn the mics off, turn the cameras off, and leave. Do not come back until I order you to do so."

"Yes... yes, sir," they nod, turn the cameras, the mics off and leave through the small door. Wonwoo checks again to ensure everything is turned off. Makes sure that there is no trace of anything.

He closes the door to the watching room, locks it, enters the interrogation room. His men gulp when he walks in the room, seeing his expression, watching him pull down the cover on the mirror.

"Out."

Kim Mingyu laughs, his sharp chuckle piercing through Wonwoo's ears.

They bow and leave.

Wonwoo locks the door behind him.

"Talk," he orders, stalking to the table. To where Mingyu's sitting, his legs propped up on the table. Wonwoo knocks them down, sees them drop to the floor.

Mingyu stays silent, his condescending smirk painted on his face.

"Give me something," Wonwoo prods, grabs Mingyu's blazer. "Give me something before I kill you."

Mingyu huffs with laughter. "You wish you could."

Wonwoo punches Mingyu.

A fist straight to the face, almost knocking him from the chair he's sitting on, drawing him back, startling him into standing, drawing his tall frame in front of Wonwoo. Blood drips from his nose, and he sniffs, once, twice, drawing it back in.

Wonwoo loves nothing more than wiping that godawful expression from his face, _ruining him._ Watching, seeing that Kim Mingyu can startle under Wonwoo, that Wonwoo can leave those marks on him.

He kicks him in the stomach, pushing him back, his frame hitting the stone wall with a thud and a deep groan. Punches him in the chest once more for good measure, sure to bruise his ribs.

He wants to bash his head on that wall, until Mingyu gets in his _goddamned head_ how much Wonwoo despises seeing him. How much he wants to fucking _kill him,_ how much he wants him gone from his life.

But instead, Wonwoo stops. Takes the tissues out of his pocket, throws them on the table.

"Clean yourself up."

Mingyu takes the tissues, wipes the blood from his nose, sniffs once more, for good measure. Tests the bridge of it, pulls it from side to side.

"Fuck, hyung, that was too much. You almost broke my nose."

"Do you want to die?"

"Gladly, but only if it's by your hand," Mingyu smirks.

One second. That's all it takes for Mingyu to have him bent over the table, his hands behind his back and his wrists in Mingyu's unforgiving grip.

"Mmm, turned me on, hyung," Mingyu whispers, pressing his hard-on against Wonwoo's ass. "Can you feel it?"

Wonwoo twitches in his grip, but it doesn't give. Fucking Kim Mingyu.

"Just fuck me," he rasps, his cheek pressed on the hard stone table.

"Happily," Mingyu chirps, picking up Wonwoo for a little bit, slamming him back down on the table. "But I think I should rough you up a bit first, so they don't think I just gave in, hmm?" His tone stays, teasing, cold.

One hand is left to grab both of Wonwoo's, the other one lightly caressing over Wonwoo's back, the curve of his ass, before it comes down on him. _Hard._

Even over his uniform, Wonwoo feels it. Grits his teeth to not make a sound, even as Mingyu smacks his ass over and over again, digs his fingers in hips to drag him over his hard-on, Wonwoo's vest long gone. He's gonna leave bruises. He's gonna leave his fingers painted all over Wonwoo, and Wonwoo's going to be forced to see them in the mirror tomorrow, when he puts his uniform on to go to work.

Reminding him what a dirty fucking slut he is, bending over for him so easily. What a whore, who instinctively arches his back when Mingyu grabs on to his ass harder, digs his nails in.

Mingyu fully lets go of his wrists, so Wonwoo can hold on to the table instead, brace himself when Mingyu unbuckles his belt, pushes up his shirt and pulls his pants and boxers down in one harsh move, leaving Wonwoo bare. Open for Mingyu to tease his dry fingers over the cleft of his ass, smack it once again, the sound disgustingly loud in the tiny room.

"You turn me on so bad, hyung, you have no idea," Mingyu rasps. Wonwoo lets out a deep breath.

He hears it, when Mingyu takes his fingers in his mouth, gets them wet. Wonwoo doesn't get the luxury of lube, not here, not now.

He gets one of Mingyu's wet fingers sliding inside him, way too slow, way too careful. Gets another one when Wonwoo barks at him to add it, because he revels in the pain, the stretch.

In the reminder that this is not meant to be gentle. This is not meant to be nice, that he hates Mingyu's guts, knows the other fucking hates him too, has no issue slamming Wonwoo down on the table, his cock harshly dragging on the edge of it. Has no issue pulling Wonwoo's legs back until Mingyu's comfortable, Wonwoo's chest dragging on the cold stone.

He gets a third finger, pressing deep inside him, making him _feel good._ Because he feels good. Mingyu's unfairly long fingers prod inside him, hit his spot, drag inside him, wring unbelievable pleasure from him.

Soon after, he gets Mingyu dragging his cock over his rim, spitting in his palm to get himself wet, pushing the head of his cock inside Wonwoo.

It fucking hurts, Mingyu splitting him open, the pain agonizing. Because he can feel every inch, the drag of Mingyu's cock inside him slow, careful. Like he's not trying to hurt Wonwoo as much as he can, just drive him insane.

He pulls out though, Wonwoo almost wanting to drag him back, before he feels wetness on his hole, Mingyu pushing back in, easier this time. _He spit on him._ Mingyu fucking _spit on him._

"Fuck," the humiliation raises in Wonwoo's chest, makes him blush, unable to hold back the curse from his mouth. Mingyu shoves himself deeper, stuffs him full, drags one of Wonwoo's cheeks to the side to see, probably, the blunt tips of his nails leaving marks in Wonwoo's skin.

"Yeah, fuck," Mingyu chuckles, his voice rough. "Fuck you, hyung, so fucking good around me. So tight. _Fuck._ "

Mingyu can't thrust much inside of him, can just grind, force himself deeper until it's all that Wonwoo feels, filled to the brim, stretched thin, grunts of pain and pleasure leaving his mouth with every small movement. He hates Mingyu, hates him so bad. Hates how his cock pushes around Wonwoo's spot, how he changes his angle until Wonwoo groans harder, his cock twitching, his tip hitting the cold table.

Mingyu's hands press on his back, press his chest to the table so Wonwoo's ass arches up, further in his grip, getting him deeper. Mingyu doesn't lay off of his spot, doesn't pull away at all, content to just grind inside him. His obnoxiously large hand presses on Wonwoo's shoulder, before he spits in his other hand, grabbing at Wonwoo's cock, laying down on his back.

Wonwoo hates feeling trapped under him, his weight pressing on Wonwoo's body. Hates the tight grip Mingyu has on his cock, the twist of his wrist at the top, the dig of his nail in his slit, the sharp feeling.

Hates how the pain is almost gone, because there's nothing to latch onto. Nothing to associate this with the present moment, with Wonwoo being fucked out of his mind in an interrogation room, on a hard table instead of on a plush bed, in a luxury hotel in the middle of somewhere, Mingyu's touches soft on his skin, instead of hard, leaving bruises behind.

Hates it when he comes. Hates it when he comes, Mingyu’s fist catching all his come, and all he wants is to feel Mingyu's fucking lips on his, instead of his teeth digging into his shoulder. Hates it when he trembles with pleasure, when Mingyu thrusts deep inside him a couple of times more, pulls him back with a hand tight on his neck, Wonwoo's head arched back, inviting. There must be fingerprints on his throat too on top of those on his hips, on top of handprints on his ass, old bruises on his thighs, dozens of bites on his stomach, teeth outlines on the back of his neck. Marked, he's marked everywhere, because if Mingyu can't leave himself behind on his soul, he'll leave reminders all over Wonwoo's body for Wonwoo to find later, get himself off over the memories, pressing his fingers on them and letting the pain rise, imagining it's Mingyu taking him apart again.

It Mingyu's his way of staking his claim, cause he can't come inside him either. Wonwoo feels his cock twitch inside him before he quickly pulls out, grinds his cock between Wonwoo's cheeks, comes on his lower back, on his ass, strings of thick come Wonwoo feels land on his skin. He almost wants to beg, almost wants to tell Mingyu to slide inside him again, fuck his come back into him, fuck this, _fuck all of this._

But Wonwoo doesn't get that. Wonwoo gets another harsh slap to his ass, a tissue cleaning him up before he turns around, pushes Mingyu away with a hand on his chest. Seeing him stumble, grit his teeth, his cock out of his pants, Wonwoo wants to punch him. He hates Mingyu. Hates him with all his guts.

But more than he hates Mingyu, he hates how Mingyu makes him feel. Alight, his nerves on fire, like his brain is functioning at a hundred percent, like his secret is the key to the world and Wonwoo _owns it._ Empires crumbling under him, the gates of hell Wonwoo can unleash.

"Eight containers. Two kilometers west of Yeosu in two days, cocaine hidden in flour bags. Some is flour, some is coke," Mingyu says, does his pants back up, tugs his zipper. Wonwoo does the same, pretending like his lower back doesn't burn, like he doesn't feel empty, loose, the memory of Mingyu inside him still vivid in his mind. "You can tell what's what by the color of a tag in the box. If it's black, it's coke. If it's navy, it's baking flour. It's Choi's operation. He's trying to bring shit from Malaysia instead, weaker shit. It's pretty terrible stuff, wants to sell for less. Wants to take over Yoon’s territory. Has some boxes of white paper too in one of the containers. Counterfeit money, trying out a new job. Be careful with that, he's connected."

Wonwoo sniffs, adds this brick to the wall already in his mind. It's pretty tall now, only maybe a few more strands of information needed, only a few more times he gets to enjoy the feeling of Mingyu's big dick inside him taking him raw with the excuse of no lube, before Wonwoo can take a hammer to it and destroy it all.

He pushes Mingyu to the wall, quickly kisses him. Pushes a tongue forcefully in his mouth, digs his hand in his chest.

He can't wait to bring Choi's ass down, watch him crumble. Wonwoo will watch it from far away because Choi doesn't need to know who it is who busted him, will collect his fat paycheck, and will whisk Mingyu away to an island in the middle of buttfuck nowhere for their own happy ending, so Wonwoo can get fucked on 1000 thread count bedsheets instead of hard interrogation room tables, walls on dirty, abandoned warehouses, sketchy motels.

Lube or no lube. He'll decide then.

"Good job, pretty boy. See you in a week," he presses on Mingyu's chest, slams the door behind him.

It's been four years. Wonwoo can wait one more month. Two maybe, just to be sure, to enjoy the pretense of hating Mingyu, Mingyu hating him, for just a little bit more.

**Author's Note:**

> Why is this one of my favorite short things to ever write... Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! Hit me up at @bbysvts on Twitter and CC to chat with me! <3


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